Daniel
by Isobel Morgan
Summary: This is an AU story, an alternative to my previous story "The Child" which deals with what the repercussions could have been had Marion kept her baby. Includes original characters and Character death. Chapters 2, 3, 4 5 and 6 now added.
1. Chapter 1

This is an AU story, an alternative to my previous story "The Child" which deals with what the repercussions could have been had Marion kept her baby:

**Daniel.**

From his earliest days, the boy's strongest memories were of whispers. Hurried, hushed conversations in corridors, the people around him gossiping behind their hands; words he was probably never meant to hear, or that only he was meant to hear. Nurse Joan especially, telling him things that he was never, ever to repeat to anyone, especially his guardians. That was easy to remember; his guardians frightened him, though he tried his best never to show it, and he rarely had to say much to them. As he grew older and began his schooling, they took more interest in him, asking him what he thought of such a thing, and even began to include him a little in their daily lives, which surprised everyone.

Perched on a wooden stool beside his guardians on the raised dais in the Great Hall, the boy began to question things that he had been told. Clearly, these were great men; powerful, learned. They commanded respect. So why did Nurse Joan keep telling him that they lied? That they committed acts of evil, that they were not to be trusted?

They had to uphold the law, that much he recognised, and that meant punishing those who broke it, but surely that was a good thing, not bad?

He raised the question as she put him to bed that night, smoothing the heavy covers over him as she smoothed the untidy dark hair on his head.

Nurse Joan sighed heavily, parking her plump behind on the stool by the bed.

"You're right, Daniel, they are powerful men, and they do uphold the law. But… they go too far. They can be cruel when they should be kind. They hurt people who don't deserve it."

"They don't hurt me."

"No, sweetling, they are kinder to you than anyone ever thought they would be. But-"

The woman hesitated.

"But what?" the boy insisted.

"Your guardians – they killed your mother. And your father, before you were born."

The boy stared back at her, his dark eyes giving nothing away.

"Why?"

"Because they defied your guardians. Your parents believed that all men should be free, that the rich and powerful should help the poor and the needy. That made them a great number of enemies."

"But why did Lord Robert and Lord Hugo kill them, and then make me their ward?"

"I don't know," Joan confessed. "Perhaps they thought you were an innocent and decided to be charitable for once. Your mother was their ward when she was a girl; perhaps they felt responsible for you."

"Then they aren't all bad."

She hesitated again.

"No, my love. But you need to remember that they can be unkind too. Be careful around them; remember what they tell you in church about how a good Christian behaves. Now, did you say your prayers?"

"Yes, Nurse," the boy replied dutifully, turning over and pulling the bedcovers up to his chin.

Joan leaned over and planted a kiss on his ruffled head, then blew out the candle beside his bed and left the room with a heavy heart.

How to explain it to a child? There would be more questions, of that she was sure, but Joan had made a promise that she would do everything in her power to protect this boy, and that included ensuring that he grew up with a good heart and his eyes open.

Not just a promise to his mother, but a promise Joan made to herself, when Daniel's mother died. There were days when Joan still couldn't believe it had happened, certainly not in such a horrific manner. Daniel's father – well, that was different. Almost as if he'd died in battle, cut down by the Sheriff's men in a heroic stand, saving the wife who, unknown to both of them, carried his child.

Joan had attended Lady Marion from the day she was brought to Nottingham Castle; as a gaoler at first, spying for the Sheriff on this notorious woman who was bearing the child of an outlaw whose name was known all over England, and beyond.

But then the quiet dignity and determination of the girl had won her over.

Imprisoned, humiliated and above all broken-hearted by the death of her man, Lady Marion had accepted her situation and lived with it, in the hope of protecting her child.

While Joan did not believe in looking for trouble, she had secretly admired the antics of Robin Hood and his outlaw gang, if a little scandalised that a woman ran with them, as if she had no care for her reputation. But when she saw the pain of Robin's death in Marion's eyes, she understood that she had given up all for love, and that was something that Joan could understand, if not from personal experience.

Her Tom, God rest his soul, had been paired with her by their parents, like most people, and while she had grown fond of him, she had never loved him in the way she'd dreamed she would love her husband when she was a girl, the way Marion had loved her husband; all-consuming love that left no room for question. And now he had been taken from her, Marion turned her love towards his child.

For the most part, as the pregnancy progressed, the Sheriff ignored her, locking her into one of the towers of the castle as if she no longer existed, but Joan still had to make her report to him, hating herself as she did. De Rainault had no interest in the state of the pregnancy, seemed to find it distasteful, offensive even, but then that was no surprise in an unmarried man who was rumoured to prefer the company of boys to that of women, although Joan had seen no proof of this herself.

But on the day that Marion's labour began, things began to change. From the moment that the Sheriff's man, Sir Guy, forced his way into her chamber as Joan was preparing the room for the delivery, things had taken a disturbing turn.

"Sir Guy!" Joan exclaimed, shocked. "You should not be here! This is not-"

But the man had simply shoved her out of his way, ignoring her and the midwife completely.

Lady Marion was standing by the window, gazing out into the forest, her hands resting on the back of a chair. Her pains were still some time apart, she had not yet taken to her bed and for that, Joan was thankful. That gave her time to remove this unwanted visitor before her attention was taken up by the impending birth.

"So," Sir Guy sneered. "The woman says your bastard will be born today."

Marion turned her head, her face utterly calm, with no sign of the pain she felt, either physical or emotional.

"Don't worry, I don't intend to stay. The Sheriff merely wished to know how things progressed. Keep me informed," he threw at Joan as he turned and left, the heavy wooden door slamming behind him. Joan heard the key turn in the lock and had to force down the anger that flared up within her. Was it entirely necessary to lock the door? Did they really think that Marion would try to escape in the middle of her labour?

But then Marion gasped, her face creased as the pains rose up again, grasping the chair back for support and Joan forgot all her worries in the face of what was to come.

"To bed now, my lady," the midwife insisted, guiding the girl away from the window, rubbing her swollen belly to ease her suffering.

The labour was uncomplicated, and within hours, Marion was safely delivered of a healthy son. Joan was impressed with the way Marion had managed to maintain her composure throughput the birthing, mindful of her noble blood as much of the need to keep her dignity in her current situation. In the months of her confinement, Joan had become aware that Marion did not see herself as disgraced; she was a prisoner, yes, but she knew that the Sheriff kept her within the Castle to prevent her from becoming involved with outlaws once more, this time as the mother of Robin Hood's heir. While her plight was no unlikely to have remained a secret, she could not be used as a symbol of rebellion from a locked room in a tower of a fortified castle.

Joan tended to the babe while Kate the midwife, a stout, no-nonsense woman who attended all births within the castle, ensured that Marion suffered no ill-effects from the delivery.

"A son, my lady."

Joan laid the swaddled newborn in his mother's arms.

"Have you a name for him?"

"I thought perhaps Richard, for my father. Or maybe Daniel."

"Daniel?" Joan's eyebrows shot up.

Marion seemed not to notice, completely absorbed in her infant son.

"Why not? Born into a lion's den."

Despite her obvious exhaustion, Marion still managed to inject a note of fire into her voice, and the trepidation that Joan had felt earlier resurfaced. What would happen to these two now? Surely the Sheriff couldn't keep them locked up forever?

And indeed that was not his plan. Within days, they received another visit from Sir Guy, this time accompanied by his master, Robert de Rainault.

"Lady Marion. I was so glad to hear you are safely delivered. And a son too. How… joyful that must make you."

Marion did not reply. She stood at her preferred spot by the window as calmly she gave her child suck, her gown pulled as decorously close to her breast as the baby would allow. Her face was serene; the Sheriff's barbed words deflected by a quiet strength that befitted her new role as a mother.

Joan couldn't help but admire her; over the months of Marion's confinement, she had grown close to her charge and knew better than anyone else that Marion's heart was still broken, although the arrival of her son had gone a long way to mending it.

"May I ask what name you've chosen?"

The Sheriff didn't slip from his light, almost mocking tone, one Joan recognised well. The Sheriff liked to enforce his superiority and playing at chivalry and manners for some reason seemed to make him feel as if he were belittling his opponent, hiding insults in a courtly tone.

"Daniel."

It seemed to Joan as if months had passed since Marion had actually spoken to her captors; perhaps it had been. Silence had been her only means of defending herself and maintaining her dignity.

"Daniel?" De Rainault's eyebrows raised. "How refreshingly modern of you. I thought perhaps you would name him after your late husband."

Marion did not reply; her son had finished his meal and she laid him in the wooden crib alongside her own bed, adjusting her dress as if no-one else was in the room.

"Which is the matter I wanted to discuss with you. You understand that we kept you here in our – care – in order to keep you away from any misguided individuals who might want to use you and your child as part of their pathetic little rebellions."

"Yes." Marion rested her hand on her still rounded belly, not yet recovered from the birth. "And no doubt you've realised that no-one cares about me or my child. I've had no contact with anyone in months; there's no reason why you can't let me go back to my father's house."

There was less fire in her voice than there might once have been, but there was determination nonetheless.

"On the contrary." De Rainault's voice dropped sharply, becoming colder, harder. "I've discussed this matter in detail with my brother. Your husband's pointless uprising may be finished, but the threat remains. We can't have you running around doing as you please with the child of a wolfshead who somehow, miraculously, managed to make a fool of me on more than one occasion."

"So are we to remain here indefinitely?" Marion sounded contemptuous.

"No."

There was a brief silence.

"Goodbye, Lady Marion. Gisburne," the Sheriff directed a pointed look at his steward and turned to leave the room. The younger man stepped forward, drawing from his belt a dagger, and Joan saw sudden fear spark in Marion's eyes.

"No!" Joan heard herself scream, taking half a step towards her prisoner, her friend, but one of the guards grabbed her, holding her back, helpless, while the man drove the blade brutally forward into Marion's heart.

For a moment, nobody moved. Joan, too shocked to react, could only watch as the life drained away from Marion before her. But if she had expected Sir Guy to dispatch his victim mercilessly and leave her to die on the floor, Joan was wrong. The dying woman clutched at his arms, her face growing pale, her eyes wide, and he held onto her, sinking to one knee to lower her almost gently to the ground.

Gisburne's face was blank, a soldier following an order but in later years, Joan wondered if there had been something like regret in his expression.

"Daniel," Marion gasped, her eyes boring into Gisburne's, desperate now to save her son.

"He is to be spared."

Marion nodded, her body going limp against her murderer, her gaze unfocussing.

"Robin," she whispered, and then she died.

Joan barely remembered what happened after that, other than Lady Marion's body being dispatched back to her broken-hearted father, while Joan herself was appointed to the care of Marion's infant son. Taking a lesson from her charge's mother, Joan set herself the task of raising the boy as best she could. And part of that meant that, whatever his guardians said, he would know as much as she could safely tell him about who his parents were.

So the next time Daniel asked, she whispered in his ear as she tucked him into bed:

"_Marion. Your mother's name was Marion_."

From her place by the window, Joan looked down upon her former charge, practising swordplay with the other boys in the courtyard. Despite his parentage – something most seemed surprisingly unaware of within the castle - the boy's status as the Sheriff's ward seemed to give him level pegging with the sons of the knights posted in Nottingham. She remembered the recent conversation she had overheard between the Sheriff and Sir Guy; it was usually easy to eavesdrop, as both men seemed to regard anyone of lower status than themselves as invisible, or at least so unimportant that they spoke in front of them as if they were not there.

"My lord," Gisburne was saying. "About the boy. Your ward. Perhaps – I was thinking that he should be apprenticed."

"I hadn't thought about it. How old is he now?"

"Eight, my lord."

"Indeed? How remiss of me. Did you have someone in mind?"

"I thought – I thought perhaps that I could take him on. After all, I have been needing to replace Henry."

De Rainault's eyes narrowed, giving Gisburne an appraising look.

"You want to take the child of your enemy on as your page? How magnanimous of you."

"No more so than yourself and Abbot Hugo making him your ward," Gisburne replied.

Joan, pretending to busy herself with her mending in the window seat, noticed a faint blush rise on the man's face under his master's scrutiny. But to her, the question should perhaps have been, why take on a child whose parents you killed? Was there something sinister in this request, or was it atonement for the murders, a search for salvation through the treatment of an innocent? Joan had heard gossip through one of the maids who had accompanied Sir Guy to Nottingham from his father's home that Gisburne had suffered a harsh childhood. Was he seeking to somehow redress the balance through kindness, or to vent his unabated feelings of hatred towards Daniel's parents on their child?

"Well, I suppose there isn't much chance of you having a son to succeed you, is there? Not unless Lady Alys can be persuaded to change her mind."

Joan bit the end off a thread, hoping that the Sheriff would not continue baiting Gisburne about his estranged wife. That marriage had been an unmitigated disaster from the start, ill-advised even before that, but like his master, Gisburne was not easily persuaded away from something he wanted. The young and beautiful Alys had caught his eye, and he had pursued her relentlessly until her father had acquiesced, but Alys was not bought so simply. She had done her duty at first, as any well-bred young woman would have, but the cruelty of her husband and his master towards the people of their shire had sickened her, and slowly but surely, she had turned away from him until there was no hope of a reconciliation. Last Joan had heard, Lady Alys Gisburne was residing in York with her sister and brother-in-law, ostensibly nursing her sister through a childbed fever that had so far lasted an impossible three years.

"Very well, Gisburne. The boy is your responsibility. Try to take better care of him than you did your last page."

"Henry died of fever, my lord!"

But the Sheriff was already moving away, all interest in the subject lost.

And now Joan stood, watching the son of Robin Hood learn the beginnings of the art of knighthood among his peers, unaware he was being taught swordsmanship by the man who had murdered his mother. Joan had thought it best to keep that particular information from the boy; knowledge could always be dangerous, and he was still a child. His change in position meant she was no longer in control of his care, but Joan still felt the pull of the bond she had with him. There was little time she could visit him, and she did not want the other boys to laugh at him, or say he was still tied to his Nurse's apron strings. That made the snatched moments she had with Daniel all the more precious, and she continued to instruct him to keep his own counsel, to heed her warnings about the Sheriff and Gisburne.

As the years passed, the boy grew, spending more and more time away from the Castle as befitted his duties, and Joan saw less of him, as did his guardians.

It appeared that the joke of raising the child of their now long-dead enemy, moulding him to fit a shape of their choosing, no longer amused the de Rainault brothers and they lost all interest in him, now just another boy in the castle.

By the time Daniel was fourteen and a squire, Abbot Hugo was dead, killed by a sudden seizure that Joan could only call an act of God, and wonder on what had taken the Lord so long to get around to dispatching him. Age had not improved his brother, either, and Joan would have found an excuse to escape his service long ago if it had not been for the fact that Daniel was bound to the service of his deputy, remaining in Nottingham Castle even as the boy went off to fight in France for the King.

Joan had never felt more like a mother than when she had watched him ride off so proudly alongside his master, torn between sharing his pride, and fear that she would never see him again. The crippling defeat King John suffered at Bouvines may have left the men in ill-spirits, but Joan was secretly relieved that at least that should reduce the chance of her boy seeing active military service, for a while at least.

For a while, her wish was granted, and she had three more years of watching her handsome boy excel in his training, advancing further towards his own knighthood. But when Daniel reached seventeen, her heart gave out, quite suddenly, and the boy found himself alone in the world once more, as perhaps he had always been. He was not unique in never having known his parents, that much he realised, but Nurse Joan was all he had known of family, and now he had lost her too.

And as his life progressed, Daniel could not escape the realisation that he was in the service of corrupt, capricious men who lived like royalty while the ordinary people suffered. Sir Guy may have been a hard master, but Daniel knew he endured no worse than any of the other squires, and he grew accustomed to hardship, knowing that this was what would make him a man. On military campaign, he could almost admire the man; whatever else he might have been, Gisburne was a magnificent soldier in the field. But, when faced with people who were not technically his enemy, Sir Guy was less admirable. Watching his master patrol the Shire of Nottingham, Daniel heard the words of his old nurse echo in his inner ear.

"Any man can be cruel. It takes a better man to rule with fairness."

And there was much unfairness, much cruelty. Remembering the trials he had watched alongside his guardians as a child, Daniel realised that what he had thought was justice being carried out against criminals was in fact vindictive men thrilling in the exercise of their power. Punishments meted out for slight offences, or what should never have been offences in the first place. Peasants slaved their lives away, crippled by taxation and the near-impossible struggle to live without breaking any of the multitude of laws that corralled their lives.

It wasn't supposed to be this way; Magna Carta, the rebellion by the Barons, these were supposed to protect the people. Even the death of King John, the Civil War, the eventual succession of his young son Henry seemed to have made no difference to the lives of the peasants. True, the laws had changed, but many of those enforcing them didn't appear to have noticed this, when it came to the ordinary people of England. Daniel felt something inside himself rail against such injustice, but what could he, one man, do? He knew from experience that he could never hope to change the minds of those who held power through argument. The old man in the castle grew more vile and intolerable every day, and Daniel found himself forced to take part in acts that went against his very soul.

Then one day, riding through Sherwood Forest, hunting poachers and outlaws, Daniel felt something else. A voice, though not one that spoke out loud, calling him by name.

He felt it in his blood, as if it caught at his soul and, ignoring the calls of his fellows, he followed it. Abandoning his horse, he worked his way deeper and deeper into the forest, further than he'd ever been before, led by the call that had knotted itself inside him. Eventually, he found himself in Dark Mere, a place no-one went unless they had no choice. The locals were convinced that devils and demons gathered here, but Daniel had no fear of superstitions. After all, what could be worse that the evils of men?

He stood for a moment, listening. All was quiet; even the birdsong was muted here but Daniel could feel that something drawing near, something powerful. Still, he felt no fear, knowing that he stood on a precipice but unable to shake the feeling that this was destiny calling, that this was somehow meant to be.

A stirring ran through the clearing where he stood, the trees susurrating in a quiet wind, and as Daniel turned, a man stood before him. Or was it a man?

For a moment, Daniel felt something very like fear, but he pushed it away. This was a man. It had to be, for all his sorcerer's trappings, the antler headdress he wore.

"Who are you?"

"I am Herne the Hunter. And you are a leaf, driven by the wind. Daniel, child of Robin i'the Hood and Marion of Leaford."

"How do you know my name?"

"I have always known. I have waited here for you to come. I knew that one day you would be ready."

"Ready? For what?"

"Ready to take up the mantle. The people of England need you, Daniel. Will you come to their aid?"

The words spun in Daniel's brain, too much for him to take in.

"You said something about my parents? What do you know of them?"

"I will show you."

The man raised his hands, and Daniel felt the world swept away in a tempest of noise and confusion. Visions sprang up before his eyes in a torrential rain and he struggled to make sense of them.

_People ran through the forest, much like the area he stood in now. Strangers, every one. A giant of a man, carrying a quarterstaff. A Saracen man, twin swords strapped to his back with daggers held in his hands. A boy no older than Daniel himself, red-headed, carrying a bow. A friar with a sword tucked inside his voluminous robes. A stocky man, built like a soldier, his hair cropped short, bellowed at the others, but his words were lost in the storm of vision. Behind this group, standing facing the oncoming enemy with longbows drawn, a young couple; she was beautiful, red-haired like the boy, long curls tumbling down her slender back, reaching the quiver of arrows at her belt. He was dark-haired, handsome, carrying a sword that was far finer than his rough clothing suggested. The pair loosed their arrows, turned and ran after the group and Daniel saw them grasp hands, the man calling out to her. He couldn't hear the words, but he read the name that rose up on the man's lips, and knew who these people were._

"_Run, Marion!" the man called, and Daniel realised that he was seeing his father, for the first time in his life. _

There was more, but Daniel couldn't take it in. What little his nurse had told him, all he had gathered in the whispers that had surrounded him since childhood, paled into insignificance at this glimpse into his heritage. Any mention of Robin Hood had been in whispers; he'd witnessed the Sheriff order a man whipped after catching him gossiping in a corridor about the outlaw and his vanished group of followers.

The image burned before his eyes; his parents, young and free, running for their lives through the greenwood. Now both of them were long dead.

"What do you want with me?" he demanded the strange being before him. "Why show me this?"

"They fought for freedom and justice. What is right and fair. Will you do the same, now?"

"By myself?" Daniel demanded, still unsure what was being asked of him.

"More will come. They will hear the call, as you did. But you must lead them, or they will fail."

Daniel stared, feeling the world spin before him, opening up to show him what his life could be. No more following orders. No more pandering to the whims of an irascible old fool and a sadistic master in a stone fortress. No more watching barns burn to the ground because starving villagers had tried to keep some of their tithe back to feed their children. He was throwing away his chance at a knighthood; the possibility of wealth and prosperity, but the price he would have to pay for a life like that was too high. True, if he followed the path offered here, he would be living in the forest like an animal, never able to rest for fear of capture or death, but he would have his freedom, be his own man, and that, it seemed, was a price worth paying.

Yes, the fight had claimed the lives of his parents and their friends, but perhaps he could succeed where they had failed.

"Will you rise to the challenge?" pressed Herne, his eyes boring into Daniel's.

"Will you be your father's successor?"

Daniel raised his head, straightening his spine to meet the oncoming storm head on.

"I will," he said.

_________________________________________________________________

- I couldn't find any hard evidence, so I don't know if this is true, but what I have read suggested that Daniel was not a popular name in the 12th century and did not become so until later, hence some of the characters surprise at Marion's choice of name. For myself, I was influenced by listening to the Bat For Lashes track of the same name.

As to the need for an uprising after the signing of Magna Carta, I'm no expert on this but I don't believe that this suddenly made everything alright for the whole of England as it often appears in history and so I believe the need for a people's hero would be just as strong. Anyway, it's just a story!


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

He stayed with Herne three days, learning as much as the cryptic old man who was also a god would tell him. Then he set out, new purpose buzzing within him like intoxication. If he let it, the voice inside his head that realised what he was doing would have sent him scuttling back to the Castle in a scant minute. So he ignored it, ignored any thought that told him how lunatic he was to even consider taking up Herne's challenge.

Daniel followed his feet, finding himself in a village he had visited once before, in what seemed now to be another lifetime, although it could only have been a few months past.

Wickham. Why had Herne sent him here, specifically? A small village, the same as a number of others scattered around the shire. People looked up as he entered, and he realised, belatedly, that he was still dressed as a soldier of the castle, albeit one without armour, now lying in Herne's cave.

"What can we do for you, my lord?"

A man approached him, taller and broader than Daniel, muscles earned through hard work and just as hard living.

"I seek the head Villager," Daniel heard himself answer, his voice ringing with an authority he hadn't known he possessed.

"That's me," the man said. "Matthew of Wickham, in place of my father."

"Your father is Edward?"

The man nodded.

"He's sick. Has been these last few months. So I took his place. What is it you want?"

"I should speak with your father. It was him I was sent to."

The man crossed his arms, defensive.

"I told you, he's sick, my lord. I can help you with any business the Sheriff has with us."

"The Sheriff didn't send me. Herne did."

There was a pause.

"You'd better come in, then."

Matthew led him into a darkened hut, rough cloth pulled over the door and window so that Daniel had to squint to make out the two figures within; a man, lying on a bed and a woman sat beside him, holding his hand.

"Father?" Matthew called softly. "There's a man to see you. He says… he says he's come from Herne."

There was a strain in his voice that Daniel could not quite comprehend.

A bout of wracking coughs came in reply, as the stricken man struggled to sit up.

"Careful, my love," the woman whispered.

"Herne? There's a name I haven't heard for a while. Why has he sent you to us?"

Daniel paused, unsure how best to proceed. After all, to these people, he was an instrument of the Sheriff, a symbol of their oppression and suffering.

"To ask for your help. He has… chosen me to be his son."

A strangled gasp escaped from the woman, who leapt to her feet and wrenched back the cloth that covered the window, a crude opening in the hut wall. The sunlight illuminated the figure in the bed, and Daniel saw no change in his face as the light fell on him, realised that the old man was blind.

"What is it, Alison?" he asked his wife, who was staring at Daniel in open-mouthed astonishment.

"It can't be!" She exclaimed.

Crossing over to Daniel, she touched a hand to his face.

"Who are you?" she demanded. "Tell me!"

"My name is Daniel," he told her. "I – I was raised in Nottingham Castle as a ward of the Sheriff. I never knew my parents but – I know my mother's name was Marion, Marion of Leaford. I have reason to believe that my father was Robin of Locksley, known as Robin i'the Hood, son of Herne the Hunter."

"Yes," Alison whispered. "You are. He is the spit of him," she added to her husband, mindful that he could not see the boy she had at first thought was a ghost returned.

"It was true then, what they said." Edward reached out a hand towards Daniel, struggling to hold of the coughs attacking him.

"What who said?"

Edward put a hand to Daniel's face as he knelt by the bed, tracing calloused fingers across his face.

"We heard rumours after Robin's death, that his wife, Lady Marion had borne a child, in secret, and that the Sheriff had taken that child away."

"They killed her," Daniel replied. "I never saw her. I don't know why the Sheriff didn't kill me too, but I've left him now."

"You're one of his knights?" Matthew asked from his place by the doorway.

"I was squire to Sir Guy of Gisburne. But I can no longer stand by and watch as men like them tear this country apart with their greed and cruelty. Herne called me to him so that I could learn to fight, to protect the people of England."

"Why come here?" Matthew demanded. "This will bring us nothing but trouble, just as it was before. Why come back now?"

"Hush, Matthew," Edward admonished his son. "Herne wouldn't send him here to harm us."

"Herne?" The younger man exploded. "And where has he been all these years, when we needed him? It's over, father. It died with Robin."

He turned and left the hut, leaving Daniel uncomfortable. He knew nothing of these people, their lives and what had happened when his parents were alive, but Herne must have sent him here for a reason; if they had known his parents and their followers, then maybe they could help him, now.

"Forgive my son," Edward continued. "Things have - been hard of late. At least when Robin was alive, we had some hope. But now… it's been too long. After the Sheriff killed your father, the others disappeared, and we've been on our own since. You can see why he feels as he does."

"Yes," Daniel admitted. "But I believe that I can help, if you help me."

There was a long pause, and Daniel realised that his task would not just be in fighting injustice, but also in defeating the fear that lived in hearts of the people of England. The Barons' rebellion had done their part in changing the laws, constraining the power of the King, but as England's King was now a small boy, that part was easily done. The battle for the lives of the common people still had far to go. They had suffered much, and would need encouraging if he was to make a difference.

"What do you want?"

"I believe Herne sent me here because you knew my father. Tell me about him."

Alison let out a heavy sigh.

"It was a long time ago, Daniel. Things are not how they used to be."

"Tell me, please. It's important."

"I'll do what I can." Edward told him.

Alison sat down beside her ailing husband again, taking his hand. Daniel remained on his knees by the bed, and listened. Heard things he had never imagined; how his grandfather, Ailric, had also tried to raise a rebellion against the Norman rulers and been cut down, as had his son, Daniel's father. How Robin had rescued Lady Marion from the dark sorcerer who wanted to sacrifice her to the demon he worshipped, then brought together a group of men who had, for a brief while, done real damage to the oppressors of the English.

"Where are they now?" he asked, as Edward paused, great shuddering coughs tearing through his ailing body.

Edward shook his head.

"Couldn't say. I heard rumours, stories, but none of us have seen hide nor hair of any since – well, since Robin died."

"That's not true," Alison cut in. "What about Little John?"

"Oh, yes. He came back for Meg, but then they both left. I think they got married, settled down somewhere. Shepherd, most likely. Much went with them."

"And the others?"

"Reckon Tuck went back to Holy Orders, joined a monastery. Scarlet – well, he got caught. Drunk in an alehouse when soldiers came in. Someone recognised him, and rather than let them arrest him, he went down fighting. As for Nasir, who can say? Could have gone anywhere; might have gone back to his own people."

Daniel was crestfallen. Though he had known, deep down, that this would never be easy, he had hoped to contact at least some of his father's old gang. Rumours and hearsay weren't enough.

"And you? What happened to you, after-" Daniel found he couldn't finish the sentence.

"We survived." Daniel turned to see Matthew back in the door of the hut.

"Things went back to how they were. We tried fighting and it didn't work. So now we survive. It's all we can do."

"But it doesn't have to be," Daniel sprang to his feet, passion flooding through him.

"All it takes is for a few to stand up, and others will follow! We must try; we can't let them win."

The man gave him a pitying look.

"They have won. Look, I understand. Herne called you, and now you think you can make a difference. I felt like that once, when Robin was alive. We all did. But what do you know about it? A sheltered boy, raised within stone walls. What can you know of our lives?"

"I fought in France, for King John and for England. I know what it is like to face a battle that seems hopeless. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't fight!"

"And that's it, is it? You turn up here, give a few encouraging words and everything will be alright? Think again, boy."

"What are you afraid of?" Daniel threw at him, frustration rising.

"Afraid? Damn right, I'm afraid! You should know what the Sheriff's men do to people like us, you're one of them!"

"Was," Daniel corrected. "Now I stand against them."

"Fat lot of good that'll do us," Matthew spat. "Where were you when they killed my wife, hey? When they burned the mill at Elsdon? I'll tell you – right there alongside the men that did it!"

"Matthew!" Edward's voice was suddenly stronger, more like his old self.

"You go too far!"

"Don't tell me you believe him? That you think we should all risk our lives following him, just because of who his father was?"

"You believed in his father," Edward's voice was quieter, but still held his son in sway.

"That's not all we did."

Matthew was bitter, but there was pain in his voice too.

"They made us betray him, and then they killed him. They knew that would break us more than anything else. More than burning our homes and our crops. More than torture, or starvation. The one thing that could break our spirit, end our hope. It tore his followers apart, and you, you stand here before us and ask us to try again? You know nothing."

For a second time, the man turned away, leaving Daniel with the blind old man and his wife.

"Betrayed?" Daniel asked, careful to keep any accusation from his voice.

This time, it was Alison who answered.

"Our son carries too much guilt over what happened. Blames himself for things he could not help, or control. He was just a boy then; if he hadn't done what the Sheriff asked, they would have found another way. What he did – all he did was carry a message. He had no choice – they would have killed Edward, maybe all of us had he not. But still he blames himself for the breaking of the rebellion, as if no-one's actions had consequences but his."

Daniel understood that. The guilt he felt over his own past actions, in not speaking up earlier, in standing by while others destroyed and oppressed, may have been with good cause, but he could not change what was done.

"I'm not asking you to give up your lives and fight alongside me," he replied. "Not yet at least. Just that you help me until the day comes when we must all join together to act."

There was silence in the hut, broken only by Edward's pained breathing.

"Leaford Grange."

"I'm sorry?"

Alison raised her head to look him in the eye.

"You should go to Leaford Grange. It belongs to you, after all."

"Me? I don't own any land, I'm still only a squire."

"But it is yours. After Sir Richard died, the Sheriff took his lands, claiming that he had the right as Sir Richard died without issue. But if Lady Marion was your mother, then those lands belong to you, rightfully."

That thought had never occurred to Daniel.

"Sir Richard's retainers may support you, if you make a claim. There are many who have no love for the Sheriff."

Yes, that would work, as a message to his previous lord and master that he was free now. And even if he found no support there, it would be a clear sign of the Sheriff's tyranny, that he took what did not belong to him and cast aside those who had rightful claim.

"Thank you," he addressed Edward and Alison. "I may be back, if I may call on you for help again?"

"For the son of Robin Hood," Edward managed, his voice cracking. "I would give you my life, if it helped England be free."

Daniel grasped the old man's hand, squeezed it, then he turned and left the hut.

The couple sat in silence for a moment.

"Could it be real?" Alison asked her husband. "Could Herne really have called him?"

"I believe it," Edward replied. "We never lost faith, no matter how long we had to wait for him to show himself. That boy was the son of Robin Hood, and now he is Herne's son. There must be a reason why Herne waited so long, there must be."

That thought was also on the mind of two other men, now staring at each other outside the hut. Matthew tried to concentrate on his work, but this was too much. This… boy just strolls into the village and turns everything upside down, all over again. Only this time, Matthew was not some innocent child, not some eager fool who would fall in alongside anyone, giving up himself heart and soul only to lose everything in a moment of weakness and fear.

Had he known what would happen, would he have done differently? It wasn't that he'd thought the lives of his family, his village were worth more than that of Robin of Loxley, but that he had never imagined that Hooded Man could die, and that his trust in the man who was more than a man, a legend, would never be broken.

Back then, he had seen himself as someone who did as he must, trusting that it would all work out, as it had before. Now, he saw him young self as a weak and frightened fool with no comprehension of his actions and their consequences.

He had betrayed Robin Hood, and the man had died, leaving behind a hollow that could not be filled. And Herne had turned his back on them, despite the village following the rituals as they always had. Oh, he had not cursed them, but he longer graced them with his presence at the Blessing and while they did not starve, they did not prosper for their respect of the old ways. And for all the hours Matthew had spent in Sherwood, begging for Herne to help them, to choose him as Robin's successor… nothing.

Long, hard years had all but broken Matthew. Now survival was all there was. Ellen was dead, killed quite casually by one of the Sheriff's men for no real reason at all, and Matthew had to be responsible for their children as well as his aging, ailing parents, the rest of the village. No, this boy was trouble, not help. He wanted to change things, but they never changed for the better, no matter what they did, what the intention was.

As for Daniel, he was all too aware that he was a successor. He was not the first to try, but as he had learned, it was in his blood to do so. Did that make what he had to do harder? That others had already tried and failed? It changed nothing within himself, his resolve. The passion burned within him. He would do this, if it killed him.

It probably would, he knew that. But this was bigger than him, that was why Herne had called him. The bloodline was part of this; when one fell, another came. While there may have been others who heard the call and chose not to answer it, Daniel could not ignore it, would give everything he had. What else was there for him?

As if he could ever be happy as a knight for a corrupt, unfair king. Perhaps in time he could talk Matthew round. But in the meantime, there would be others.

So he set off for Leaford Grange. He'd never been there himself, although he knew of it. It seemed odd to him now that he had never sought it out, knowing that it had been his mother's house, but then he wasn't supposed to know anything about his mother; indeed, all he knew, even from his nurse, was her name and a few scraps of gossip as to what she had been like. Herne's visions had been a little more forthcoming; although they made no sense, he could see her face, her light and he knew that, if nothing else, his parents had loved each other.

*******

It was a warm day, and the sun was high in the sky by the time he reached the Grange. Sweat trickled down Daniel's neck and he wished that he had somehow procured a change of clothes, although he was grateful he no longer wore chainmail. A pretty blonde girl in a blue dress smiled at him as she passed, carrying buckets of water from the well, but as he reached the courtyard, an older woman caught sight of him and gasped aloud, dropping the basket she held. She took a step back, clutching at her skirts, her mouth open in shock. Daniel stopped, turned to face her.

"What is it? Do you know me?"

The woman shook her head, violently, then turned and fled. Daniel couldn't help but remember Alison's reaction to seeing his face. Did he truly resemble his long-dead father that much? If this was the case, how come no-one had mentioned this before? Although he supposed that, when he rode out as one of the Sheriff's men, no-one would have truly seen his face, only the uniform, and those within the castle… well, anyone who thought that way would have been afraid to voice it.

A man strode across the courtyard towards him, dressed in clothes of good quality but not high status.

"You are the steward of these estates?" Daniel asked, pre-empting any question directed at himself.

"I am. And you are?"

"My name is Daniel." It was only as he spoke that he realised he had no other name to add; he certainly was never going to announce himself as 'Daniel of Nottingham.'

"I have come to claim what is mine by right of birth."

The steward looked at him as if he were a lunatic.

"And what might that be?"

"Leaford Grange."

The man's expression barely flickered, leaving Daniel wondering what he had to deal with on a regular basis that made his own proclamation seem nothing out of the ordinary.

"These lands belong to the Sheriff. Am I right to assume that he is your master, young sir?"

"No longer. I am not here on behalf of the Sheriff, but myself. I am the heir to these estates."

"There is no heir. Any child of Sir Richard predeceased him."

"He was my grandsire."

This finally produced a reaction from the man, whose eyebrows raised.

"Name your parents."

"Robin of Locksley and Marion of Leaford."

The steward visibly deflated at Daniel's words.

"You'd better come in, then."

He led Daniel into the house, sitting behind a wooden desk in a room cluttered with parchment records, quills and ink.

"I am Robert of Leaford," the man said. "I served Sir Richard until his death, and when the Sheriff took his lands, I remained as steward to try and do right by my old master."

"Do you believe me?" Daniel asked.

Robert nodded.

"You have the look of her. Your mother. Not in your face, but something about you, your bearing. I never saw your father, though God knows we all heard of him. When they took the Lady Marion away… we hoped that the rumours of a child were untrue, that they would let her live. I believe the fact she never came back to him alive hastened my master's death."

Daniel found he had no idea what to say.

"So the Sheriff spared you, raised you to serve him?"

"Yes. But I've left his service."

"And now you've come to claim your inheritance. Well, I can tell you now, lad, that won't happen. The Sheriff won't give up four hundred acres easily, and you've no proof of who you say you are, do you? Nothing that he can't deny and overrule."

"That is not my intention."

"No?"

"No." Daniel smiled. "I intend to oppose the Sheriff and those like him."

Robert sighed heavily.

"Yes, you are indeed their child. But you must know, if you pursue this path, the only inheritance you will gain is your death, as it was for your parents."

"I know that. But I must try."

Robert smiled a tiny, sad smile.

"It's that easy, is it?"

"Herne chose me. I cannot ignore my calling, my destiny."

Again the eyebrows rose.

"Herne? Well then… I have something for you."

Robert got to his feet, opening the door and calling down the stairs/

"Isabelle! Bring me the keys, girl!"

The girl in question turned out to be the blonde who'd smiled at Daniel earlier, and Daniel found himself staring at her more intently than he should have. She was more than pretty, up close; she was beautiful. Her hair, tied back with a headscarf, was a shining gold, her laughing eyes were grey and she had a spark about her that her rough, work stained clothing could not disguise. Isabelle caught him staring at her and winked.

Daniel blushed, hastily dropping his eyes. This was no time to be distracted by a girl, no matter how lovely she was.

Thankfully Robert, not noticing any of this, dismissed her and led Daniel through a maze of corridors to a small, dusty storeroom.

"After Sir Richard died, we had to clear most of the rooms. Lady Marion's maid put what remained of her mistress' possessions in here. I have to say, I didn't know what else to do with, with what we found."

Daniel, his curiosity sparked, opened up the wooden chest Robert indicated, lifting out a bundle of rags to reveal a long, cloth wrapped mystery.

"Until she was - taken, none of us knew that Lady Marion had this in her keeping."

"What is it?"

Daniel pulled away the cloth, revealing a sword, keen and shining, not dull as he would have expected after years locked away. He drew it as he would from a scabbard, noting how finely made it was, the unintelligible runes that ran along its side, beneath the inscribed name 'Albion'.

"That was your father's sword. Reckon that makes it yours."

Daniel hefted it, sunlight glancing from the blade. It felt right in his hand, not just because it was better balanced than his own, but in the way the role Herne had laid on him felt, something owed to him, belonging.

"I'm no expert; I always tried to stay out of trouble back then, but I always heard that sword was given to Robin Hood by Herne himself. I 'spect he left it here for safekeeping until he called another."

Daniel didn't reply, his attention held completely by the sword.

"You know how to use that, do you?"

Daniel smiled, an enraptured smile of intent.

"Oh yes. I know exactly what to do."

He got to his feet, wrapping Albion back up and tying it to his back in a rough bundle.

"I'll be back, Robert. There's a lot I have to do, but I will be back. I promise."

And he left, leaving Robert behind to wonder where on Earth this was going to lead, knowing it would be nothing but trouble.


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

The Sheriff of Nottingham was not in a good mood.

In truth, he rarely was, but today he was especially foul tempered, and Gisburne had been trying his best to stay out of the old man's way. Surely he should be dead by now, hopefully leaving Gisburne to succeed him as Sheriff. What kind of Devil's pact had the man made to live so long, with so many enemies? Not to mention having fallen foul of the old king more than once, although Gisburne knew that the Sheriff made sure sufficient funds found their way into the royal coffers to ensure this would not happen again in future; after the chaos of the Civil War, it was important to make it clear where your loyalties lay. And indeed, the Sheriff had been rewarded with land frequently for his 'loyalty', as had Gisburne himself, though he was rarely free to visit it, leaving its management to his own stewards. As for his own enemies… Well, he'd killed most of them, or at least intimidated them enough to keep them from trying to kill him. The scar running down the left side of his face was the only visible sign of the violence that had surrounded him as long as he'd been alive.

"Well?" the Sheriff demanded from his usual seat on the raised dais at the end of the Great Hall.

Gisburne realised with a start that he had no idea what he was being asked, having not paid any attention to the Sheriff's ranting for the last few minutes.

"My lord?"

"I asked you what you were going to do about this sudden rise in robberies? Things haven't been this bad since – well, for a long time."

"My lord, I have been trying to organise patrols. Things have been – difficult of late."

"You mean since your squire fell down a well, or whatever happened to him? You really should take more care of your men, Gisburne."

"Daniel disappeared in Sherwood, my lord. Anything could have happened to him."

"Yes, it could, couldn't it? Which is precisely my point. So what do you intend to do about the number of villains that appear to see my forest as a sanctuary?"

"I thought I could recruit more soldiers, my lord. With a larger force, I could have more impact."

"Recruit?" The Sheriff rose to his feet to take in his deputy more closely. "What precisely do you mean by that?"

"Well-" Gisburne moved closer to the dais.

"I have been thinking, my lord, that it's high time we took steps against some of the more – rebellious villages in the shire."

"Ah. Yes. There have been a few too many impudent wretches making themselves known. I suppose it's possible some of these thieves and cutthroats in Sherwood are rightfully the property of the king. Runaway serfs and the like."

"Yes, my lord. So why not use the remaining villagers to catch those committing these atrocities?"

"Yes."

The Sheriff sat back down again.

"You know, I do believe you're finally learning to think for yourself, Gisburne. Most surprising."

Gisburne swallowed the insult, thankful that the Sheriff had accepted the idea as his own, rather than discovering it had been suggested by one of his captains. The filthy peasants clearly needed another demonstration of strength to put them in their place, as they'd done before when he'd caught Elsdon cheating on their tithe and burned their mill to the ground. Let them starve, for all he cared.

The loss of his squire nagged at him, even though it had been, what, three months now? That the boy had just vanished into the greenwood made Gisburne nervous, remembering how things had been before. He had all but forgotten, or at least convinced himself that he had forgotten Daniel was the son of a rebel, put down like a dog so many years ago now. There had been one or two minor peasant upstarts over the years, but nothing of note, nothing that had not been crushed. He chose not to think about it.

"Very well, Gisburne. I'll speak to some of my stewards, and then you can have your soldiers. I want this problem eliminated, do you understand? I won't allow some filthy band of brigands to rampage through my forests terrorising honest citizens!"

"Yes, my lord."

*******

Gisburne hadn't enjoyed himself so much in years.

Each village he rode into, announcing that the men were to be rounded up and taken to the castle to serve as soldiers, he got that thrill that came with exercising power.

To him, all peasants were essentially the same, and it mattered very little what happened to them. The villages that the Sheriff had selected could have been any to him, and as the news sank into their stupid, dirt encrusted heads, Gisburne saw the same reaction, time after time. The fear as the men realised what was demanded of them, the despair of their womenfolk, knowing they would be left to struggle on alone, not knowing if they would ever see their husbands, fathers, brothers again. The confusion of the children, not understanding what was going on, but having learned very young that they had no say over their own lives.

Some tried to resist, resulting in a bloodbath which gave his men good exercise, if nothing else. Others made no such efforts, obeying sullenly or brokenly, it didn't matter. The end result was always the same; he got what he wanted. Of course, a few escaped, but what difference did that make? They'd either starve or be hunted down like the animals they were along with all the other villains in Sherwood.

After a few days of this, the ranks of Gisburne's men had swollen to an almost acceptable level, even if most of them could barely fight. That wasn't important. As long as he had a core of trained soldiers he could rely on – to a certain degree, at least – the rest were just there to make up numbers, to intimidate, making it easier to sweep through the forest. What did it matter if some were killed by robbers and outlaws? And when this was done, they could go back to working the King's lands until they were needed again. All in all, spurring his horse to gallop away, Gisburne wondered why they had never done this before.

********

A few days later, Gisburne received a summons to Leaford Grange.

Or rather, the Steward of the Grange sent a message to the Sheriff, and the Sheriff, irritable at being troubled, sent Gisburne to handle whatever the problem was.

He took a small escort of mounted guards and set off, hoping that this could be quickly resolved. He had been supervising the drilling of the new recruits – most of whom were dreadful, but he had confidence that his captain would enforce enough discipline that they would do what was necessary – and was eager to get back. But dealing with troublesome elements within the shire was also part of his remit, so he did it. He was expecting to face a minor complaint, something to be dealt with quickly, with a minimum of bother.

What he wasn't expecting, when he rode into the courtyard of the grange, was to be faced with a rabble of longbow-wielding peasants, headed by his missing squire.

Reining in his horse, Gisburne squinted at the young man.

"Daniel?"

The boy made an elaborate bow, a mocking smile across his handsome face.

"My lord Gisburne. No further, if you please. And dismount."

Confused, the knight glanced from ragged serf to ragged serf, then his former squire, heading the group. He was dressed like them, albeit in slightly better quality clothes, cast-offs from an indoor servant, perhaps. And he held a sword in his hand, raised, pointed forwards at the man he had once called master.

Gesturing to his men to do the same, Gisburne slid to the ground.

"Your weapons, please."

Scowling, Gisburne unbuckled his sword belt, dropping it in front of him as several of the peasants led away the horses, herding his men together. The peasant who retrieved his sword, he noted, was a girl, her skirts tucked up, a quiver of arrows at her belt. The sight stirred an uneasy memory within Gisburne, adding to the growing sensation of apprehension.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" he demanded. "You've been missing for months, and now I find you with a bunch of outlaws?"

Daniel's smile remained, but his eyes grew cold.

"Like father, like son."

Gisburne knew he should be surprised, horrified, betrayed. But all he felt was a sense that this had been a long time coming.

The blonde girl, brazenly buckling Gisburne's sword around her waist, stood at Daniel's side, an arrow once more fitted to her bow.

"How did you find out?"

"That my father was Robin Hood? Easily, my lord. Herne called me."

"Herne!" Now that did send a sense of horror through Gisburne. Hatred and fear at hearing the name of the old forest god, whom he had once dismissed as peasant superstition but knew from bitter experience could be truly powerful.

"Yes. I am his son now. I stand for him and for the people of England. Against people like you."

"And I thought you had more sense," Gisburne scoffed. "That same ridiculous argument. Freedom, truth and justice for all!"

"It's better than corruption, murder and injustice," Daniel replied softly. "You say I'm foolish? Perhaps. But at least I fight for what I believe in."

Realisation struck Gisburne.

"You're the reason robberies in the forest have been increasing."

"Robberies of the rich, yes. And I hear you've been busy too, my lord, with thefts of your own."

"What are you talking about?"

"Those men are people, my lord Gisburne, not property. They can't just be used and then discarded, as you see fit."

"If it wasn't for you, we would never have needed them! Those men are to be trained as soldiers to hunt scum like these!"

"Excuses, excuses," Daniel replied, although Gisburne was sure he saw a flash of uncertainty cross the younger man's face.

He took a step closer to Gisburne, the sword he held still raised. Gisburne was not at all surprised to recognise it as Albion.

"And speaking of theft," Daniel continued. "I have a message for the Sheriff. This land, here, Leaford Grange. This estate is mine, and I have come to claim it back."

"Yours? Nothing's yours!"

"Lady Marion was my mother. That makes me Sir Richard's heir, and the Grange mine."

"Your mother was a wolfshead whore!"

The sword flashed out, slicing across Gisburne's cheek to create a twin of his existing scar. Gisburne flinched but did not move.

"Choose your words carefully, my lord. This was my mother's home and I will not allow you to slander her."

Daniel stepped right up close to his former master, Albion held across the older man's throat.

"Seeing how, as a babe in the cradle, I was unable to prevent you from murdering her," he whispered.

Again, Gisburne felt that this was something he had been waiting for. Had he known this day would come? When the Sheriff decided to spare the infant Daniel, Gisburne had warned that something like this might one day happen. De Rainault had laughed, saying that they would have to make sure the boy grew up knowing nothing of his heritage, grew up to hate outlaws and rebels. And for a few years at least, he and his brother had done their best to ensure just that. But then the joke had worn thin, they lost interest, and now here they were.

That Daniel would one day learn the exact circumstances of his mother's death was not something Gisburne had foreseen – after all, any witnesses of consequence was dead – but then he had not expected Herne to take the boy.

"What, no denial? No words of protest?"

Gisburne did not reply, staring straight ahead, not meeting Daniel's dark eyes.

"I saw it, you know. Herne gave me a vision. I saw you stab her through the heart, on the Sheriff's orders. Did you hate her that much, that you would murder her in front of her son? Wasn't it enough to kill my father?"

Gisburne still did not speak, but something changed in his eyes, causing Daniel to step back. Isabelle also backed up a pace, her arrow never wavering, covering her man.

"You did hate her. That much I know. You hated all of them, everything about them, all they stood for. But there's more, isn't there?"

Daniel's mind whirred as he realised something else he had seen in the vision, but not understood until now. Why Gisburne had stayed beside Marion as she died, held onto her even as he ended her life.

"You loved her."

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"You did. You loved her. Oh, not as my father did, and the choices she made, that was enough for you to convince yourself that you hated her. But that couldn't end it, could it? She was a wolfshead and her heart belonged to another man, but you still loved her, somewhere deep inside."

"If you're going to kill me, Daniel," Gisburne finally met his squire's eyes, and his own were filled with rage and pain. "Then you'd better just do it. Don't think you can force some kind of confession from me to fit in with your lunatic ravings."

Daniel stared back at him for a moment.

"As you wish."

And then, as if it were nothing at all, he ran him through with his sword.

Gasping at the mortal wound, Gisburne dropped to his knees, still impaled on Albion, blood spilling from his mouth. As the sky turned black and the world faded away, he made out the shape of his killer standing over him, watching him die as he himself had once watched Daniel's mother die. Had watched so many people die.

"_God forgive me,"_ he thought to himself, and then he pitched forward and thought no more.

Daniel looked down at the body of his former master, Gisburne's blood spilling on the ground of Daniel's ancestral home as he withdrew Albion, and realised that he felt nothing. Revenge was pointless; it achieved nothing beyond more death and suffering. It was good that he had done this, the world was a better place without men like Gisburne in it, but to slaughter everyone who had ever done him harm would not help. This fight had to be honest, or it would all be for nothing.

He felt Isabelle's hand on his shoulder, turned to face her. They exchanged a brief glance, her grey eyes filled with understanding; she did not question what he had just done. Daniel turned his attention to the group of castle guards, recognising most of them and not caring.

"Tell the Sheriff that Daniel, son of Robin Hood, issues him with a challenge and a warning," he shouted at them, his voice carrying clear across the Grange.

"I choose this ground here, land that should be rightfully mine, to declaim that I will fight him, and all who follow him. I fight for England, for its people and its soul. I will have justice and freedom for all, or he will suffer pain and death as my lord of Gisburne did here today. This will only be over when he ends it. Anyone who wishes to fight alongside me is free to remain here. Otherwise he is against me and mine.

Do you understand?"

The men nodded, confused but clearly grasping enough of the basics of the situation. This man before them, who had once fought alongside them, had turned and would kill them all if they opposed him.

"Then go. I give you your lives that you would carry this message."

Daniel's followers drew back their bowstrings to emphasise the point, and the guards hurriedly made their escape, on foot now, heading back towards Nottingham.

After they had gone, the outlaws began to strip the horses down of anything that might identify them as belonging to the Sheriff as the Grange's steward came out of the house.

"It is done, then," he said to Daniel, who stood staring out through the open gate, Isabelle standing quietly by his side.

"Yes. It is too late to turn back now."

Although Daniel knew it had been too late long before he had reached this point; everything had changed the moment he stepped into Sherwood, before he had accepted Herne's challenge even. The death of his former master and making of another master into a deadly enemy was a step that he had had to take if he was to achieve anything at all. What happened next… well, that was up to him now.

Daniel. Once the son of Robin Hood and Marion of Leaford.

Now he was the son of Herne the Hunter, and that was who he would be until he died.


	4. Chapter 4

Technically, this is Chapter 2 ½, but I wrote it out of order because I wanted to get to the events of Chapter 3 first!

* * *

Daniel thundered down the stairs, feeling the added weight of Albion on his back as keenly as he did the weight of his new-found responsibility. He was not surprised Herne had failed to mention the sword – he was learning swiftly that things of import Herne did not say could fill Canterbury Cathedral - though it was clear Daniel was meant to have it.

Fully intending to return to the god's cave and learn more about this marvel of a sword, Daniel was so caught up in his thoughts he was taken completely by surprise when a hand grabbed hold of his and pulled him from his path into a secluded corner.

If Daniel had been startled by this interruption, he was rendered speechless by the revelation of who had accosted him.

Grey eyes sparkling in a beautiful face of mischief, Isabelle leaned in close, not relinquishing her hold on his hand.

"I have a confession to make."

Try as he might, Daniel could not summon a single word in response; instead a strangled noise was all that escaped him.

"Uhrm?"

Isabelle affected not to notice.

"I am an eavesdropper. My mother, God rest her soul, was driven to beat me often as a child for such a crime, but even that punishment did not deter me. I am habitually to be found listening at doors to conversations that should not concern me and frequently contain language unsuitable for a maid such as myself."

Daniel listened to this astonishing – and shameless – declaration with a rising sensation of bewilderment.

Isabelle continued as if he had replied.

"Why do I tell you this? I confess this sin to you, my lord, because after Master Robert dismissed me, I lingered to listen to your exchange through the keyhole."

"Ah."

Daniel began to understand.

"This was not the first conversation I have overheard about Lady Marion. She was really your mother?"

Daniel nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from Isabelle's.

"I am sorry. But people here – they did love her, do you know that?"

"Yes?"

"Many people who serve here remember her from childhood. I've heard them talk of a red-haired force of nature that Sir Richard adored and despaired of in equal measures."

"You knew Sir Richard?"

Isabelle nodded, sadness and sympathy in her expression.

"When I was seven, I used to serve him at dinner, run errands for him. He was always kind to me."

Daniel was oddly grateful to hear this; even years after his death, his grandfather was well remembered by his estate.

"Do you really intend to make a claim for your inheritance?"

Daniel was a little taken aback; he didn't remember discussing this with Robert while Isabelle was outside the door.

Isabelle smiled again, a dazzling radiance lighting up her lovely features.

"I admit, I eavesdropped earlier too. You… attracted my attention the moment you came here."

"And you mine," Daniel confessed.

There was a moment of silence while the couple forgot the conversation, each distracted by the other.

"You didn't answer my question; do you really intend to take the estate?"

"Ah… no. Well, not immediately. I intend to press my claim to the Sheriff as a statement of my intent, not a truly legal claim. I do not expect him to just hand over the Grange because I have discovered the truth of my parentage."

"You wish to make trouble."

It was a statement rather than a question, accompanied by another quirk of her lips.

"Of a kind, yes. I do not seek to bring anarchy to Nottinghamshire. Merely to… remind the Sheriff of his responsibilities, his legal obligations."

"But you will be coming back here?"

"I suppose. I have much to do."

"Good."

Without giving him a chance to respond, Isabelle placed one hand on the side of Daniel's face and kissed him. Her touch was so wonderful, so welcome that Daniel forgot to be surprised and kissed her back.

Lost in each other, the two lovers could have stood there for an eternity, but the world could not be ignored indefinitely and before long, reality began to seep back in.

Withdrawing regretfully, Isabelle squeezed Daniel's hands.

"Come back," she charged him.

"I will," he said.

*******

Had his situation been otherwise, Daniel would have returned to Isabelle soon, but he knew there was far too much to do before he could allow himself the time to engage in a romantic affair, no matter how much he might want to. His thoughts turned to her often, even in circumstances where she should have been far from his mind.

Such as the time he first encountered Pádraic and Seamus, the Irish twins who cheerfully tried to rob him on the road and just as cheerfully agreed to join him, admitting without shame that they were wanted as much by English authorities as they were the Irish and therefore had no issues fighting alongside Englishmen.

They told him, quite proudly, that their crimes were so numerous, so

infamous, in their native land that they could never return and so had set about

creating a new reputation for themselves in England, under assumed names so that they could never be associated with their past lives.

Daniel wasn't sure he believed that, or indeed believed a single charming word that fell from their lips, but they had so far proven to be reliable, honest enough in their dishonesty that he trusted them and was glad to have them at his back in a fight.

Finding men to join his cause was proving more difficult than he'd thought; the twins seemed to have thrown their lot in with him more out of a desire to cause trouble and thumb their noses at authority than wanting to see justice for the common folk.

And that thought brought him back to Isabelle, whom Daniel suspected thought along similar lines. He had wanted to ask her to come with him, but knew he couldn't. He couldn't offer her any more than a space by his side, couldn't even be sure he could protect her and certainly had no wish to expose her to danger.

He needed to find his feet, build up a gang, train them to fight; not just physical skills in battle, but also in attitude. While Daniel was not so naïve he thought this could be done without bloodshed, he did not want a massacre, nor did he want his men to revel in death and destruction. Some of the outlaws he encountered within Sherwood may well have welcomed the change to strike back at the Sheriff's men, but Daniel recognised in them a sadistic streak he was not comfortable with, and so he let them go on their way, and they, perhaps recognising Herne's mark on him, let him go his.

His encounters with the forest god had become no less frustrating as time went on, no more forthcoming with answers or guidance, and Daniel realised that he would have to forge his own path. That in itself was not the problem; having been told what to do all his life, Daniel relished his new found freedom. But why had Herne called him if he did not intend to guide him? The task set him was so vague, so unspecific, it seemed to have no set goal and that was something Daniel was unused to. Fighting to defend the people of England was all very well, but it was difficult to motivate others without a clear target.

All that Daniel could think was to start with the obvious; Gisburne and the Sheriff. Both men needed to be removed, one way or another, and that was a cause people could get behind. What followed… well, that would be dealt with as and when it came. All he had to be sure of was that the people knew Herne's Son had returned and would be fighting for them and their protection. He did not want to be dismissed as a petty criminal, another outlaw to be hunted, or worse, a lunatic. It had been a long time since anyone had stood up, and as Matthew of Wickham had shown, many people had lost hope.

A statement needed to be made, and when Daniel and his fledgling group, (their ranks swelled by the conversion of a group of runaway local bondsmen Daniel had encountered on their way to the nearest port, hoping for a new life abroad), accosted a rich merchant on the road through the forest and relieved him of his bulging moneybags, an opportunity had presented itself. Following in the example set by his father, Daniel would take money from those who did not deserve it and redistribute it to those in need.

Beginning, Daniel decided, with Elsden. The guilt he felt over standing by, doing nothing to prevent their mill from burning, gnawed at him and he keenly felt the need to redress the balance. Money would not remove the remorse, but it would help the villagers, and that was a start. The more ill-gotten money Daniel and his men returned to the people, the further he felt he was moving from that past life, the one that should never have been his in the first place.

The more he spoke about his cause, to those he wanted to convert and those whose support he wanted, the stronger his conviction became that what he was doing was right and just. None of this quietened the part of himself that wanted Isabelle, but it wasn't the right time. He couldn't take her away from her life only to risk it robbing rich travellers on the road.

Especially not while Daniel still struggled to control his men, who continued to question his motivations, his rules. Many wanted revenge, wanted to strike back at the corrupt men in power, but he knew a scant dozen ill-prepared men, scratching a life in Sherwood would not get far in such an endeavour. Perhaps in time, different opportunities would arise, but for now, they had to be content with starting small.

Which was how he found himself sitting halfway up a tree one morning, watching out for unsuspecting travellers on the road. The sudden piercing whistle of Pádraic's signal jolted him from a near doze and, instantly alert, he slid down the tree trunk and made his way swiftly towards the brothers' lookout.

Once again, what greeted him took him completely by surprise. Seamus was waiting for him, leaning against a tree with folded arms, a picture of nonchalance. As he saw Daniel approach, he stepped aside to reveal his brother, one hand on the pommel of his sword as the tip rested in the ground, the other on the shoulder of a second figure.

"A visitor after yourself," he greeted Daniel.

Daniel stopped short as the figure threw back the hood of their cape, revealing a flash of golden hair.

"I brought you a gift," Isabelle announced. Seamus kicked open the bundle at her feet; newly fletched arrows, well made with no identifying marks.

"Nice," he commented, turning to Daniel. "Friend o' yours, is she?"

"Daniel is the rightful Master of the estate I am employed on," Isabelle replied for him; Daniel was still trying to think of something to say.

"The what?" Seamus asked.

"Master of an estate, are we?" Pádraic raised an eyebrow. "Didn't know we were running with nobility now."

"I'm not, I mean I don't-"

"It's complicated," Isabelle interrupted, shrugging Pádraic's hand from her shoulder. "I brought you these as a token of my… support for your cause."

The brothers, considering this and Daniel's loss for words, broke out into broad grins.

"Aye, well, if that's true, I have another 'cause' for you to 'support' right here, missy," Pádraic began but Daniel cut him off with a dark look. Isabelle paid no attention to either brother, her eyes were only for Daniel, and that was clear.

"The fletcher at Newbridge owed me a favour, so I was able to convince him to make these for you."

Daniel picked one up, examining it. There was no doubt these were badly needed; unable to make their own arrows, they were always in danger of running short. Isabelle had obviously been thinking about Daniel as much as he had her.

Why the fletcher at Newbridge would owe a favour to a maid of Leaford, he chose not to question.

"Care to try them out?"

There was a playful challenge in Isabelle's words and Daniel found himself unslinging his bow from his back and sending one of her gifts winging through the trees to land smack in the middle of the trunk of an ancient oak.

The twins burst into mocking applause, puncturing the pride Daniel felt in demonstrating such a shot to the girl he hoped to impress. As, no doubt, was their intent.

But Isabelle was smiling, ignoring both brothers.

"Very good. Perhaps you could show me how to do that?"

Pádraic whistled suggestively and Daniel lost all patience with them.

"Don't you two have a lookout you should be attending?"

The brothers exchanged a glance, then picked up their bows and, finally, left them alone.

"Alright."

Daniel handed Isabelle the bow, fitting an arrow for her and moving to stand alongside her.

"You, um, you should stand like this."

Hesitantly, feeling nervous at her proximity, Daniel placed his hands on her hips to guide her, then reached around her to take the bow, his hands over hers and drew back the bowstring. Strands of Isabelle's hair tickled his nose as he showed her how to take aim.

"Now try to relax. Focus on the target, but don't force it. Feel as if the bow is part of yourself. And let it do the work for you."

If he had been concentrating more on what he was saying and less on Isabelle, Daniel might have been horrified to hear himself repeating what he himself had been taught by the Master Archer, back in Nottingham Castle all those years ago. But the wildflower scent of her was overcoming his senses and he couldn't focus.

"Take a breath. Hold it as you aim. Then release."

He let go of the bowstring, but Isabelle didn't. Holding on for a moment longer, she released the arrow with almost professional ease so that it landed a hair's breadth from his own, and Daniel realised she'd fooled him.

Lowering the bow, Isabelle turned back to face him, the mischievous grin back on her lovely face.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't resist."

"You know how to shoot."

Daniel couldn't help but state the obvious.

"Thank your grandfather for that. His policy was that anyone on his estate who wished to learn archery could, so long as they still completed their work. I was, from that point onwards, a most diligent worker."

Daniel didn't know what to say. This golden vision before him was as good a shot as he, a trained squire.

"Will you forgive my deception?"

Daniel nodded.

"Good."

Isabelle dropped the bow on the ground, but Daniel didn't have time to protest this maltreatment as she instead threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Instantly, everything around him was forgotten. His task of training up an army to fight injustice, the role of Herne's Son lain upon him, even the fact that the twins might still be close enough to be watching them. The openness of their surroundings ignored, the lovers continued to kiss, becoming bolder as their ardour grew.

Falling breathless to the ground, Isabelle's cape spread beneath them, the kiss turned into a more intimate embrace as their relationship was consummated.

Afterwards, they lay wrapped up in each other, happiness radiating out from them. Daniel stroked Isabelle's hair, now tangled and leaf-matted.

"I'll marry you."

Isabelle raised her eyebrows.

"Will you now?"

"If that's what you want, I mean."

"And if marriage was what I was after, do you think I would have surrendered my maidenhead beneath a tree in the forest without securing such a promise from you first?"

Daniel was confused.

"I'm sorry, I – I thought that was what you'd want. I mean, I want to marry you. I want to stay with you, keep you near me always."

"I'm glad to hear you say that, my love, but I'm in no hurry to wed. And while I am happy to be here with you now… I owe a debt to Master Robert. He did a great kindness in keeping me on after my mother died and I could not repay that by running off to the forest to live with bandits."

Maybe it was the hurt look on Daniel's face at her description of him and his men that made her laugh

"Although you can be sure, if my belly quickens, I'll be hustling you to the nearest priest before you can sneeze, but until then… I'm content with your love."

Kissing him once more, Isabelle sat up, pulling her clothes back around herself. Reluctantly, Daniel did the same.

It was not a moment too soon.

Another whistle cut through the quiet of the forest, a different one this time and immediately Daniel's senses were alert.

"You'd better get back to the Grange. That's the signal there's someone coming we can-"

He cut off, suddenly embarrassed to admit to his beloved what he and his gang got up to out in the forest.

"Rob? Is that what you mean?"

Daniel nodded.

"Then I'm coming too."

Isabelle adjusted her dress, picking up the bundle of arrows.

"Don't worry, I don't intend to start cutting throats for pennies. But I do want to see what it is you do. Call it my price for the arrows."

Daniel hesitated; she was teasing him, that much he could tell, but he still didn't want to expose her to this. Not yet, at least.

But then the whistle came again, more urgent this time.

"Alright. But stay back. I don't want you getting hurt."

"That's good. I don't want to get hurt, either."

The lovers ran towards the source of the signal, as swiftly as they could without making a sound.


	5. Chapter 5

Following on from Chapter 4, set between Chapters 2 and 3, this will probably be the last so I hope you like!

**5**

The twins were waiting for them, hidden within the undergrowth alongside two of the newer recruits, Simon and William.

"What is it?" Daniel asked, dropping to his knees to wriggle forwards, trying to catch a glimpse of the oncoming travellers.

"Thomas says it's a big group. Nobleman and his retinue, most likely."

"Heading for Nottingham?"

Simon nodded.

"There's a man and a boy riding at the head, with two men-at-arms, then three women and a wagon, with more soldiers behind."

Daniel thought about it.

"Tricky. We'll need to take out the soldiers first, but I don't want them to scatter. We'll have to surround them. Send the signal."

"An ambush?" Simon asked.

Daniel nodded, and the man slithered away, taking the twins with him but leaving William with their leader.

"Are you going to kill them?" Isabelle asked, eyes wide.

William started as he noticed the blonde girl at Daniel's side.

"This is Isabelle. She's… a friend. You can trust her."

"I'm his lover," Isabelle stated, matter-of-factly. "And you didn't answer my question, Daniel."

"Not if I can help it. We don't just murder anyone who travels through the forest. We'll send warning shots first. If they choose to fight, well then that's different."

"Good. Where do you want me to shoot?"

"Ah… I don't. Not yet. William, do we know who they are or is this going to be one of those blind ambushes that ends with us apologising and giving them their money back?"

"Thomas says he thinks they're bearing the arms of the Earl of Huntingdon."

"Huntingdon? I think I've seen him before, at the castle."

"What's he like?" Isabelle seemed determined not to be left out.

"As far as Earls go, he's one of the better ones. He only inherited a few years ago but he has a reputation for fairness."

"But you're still going to rob him."

"Of course. He's an Earl, Earls are rich. It's all about wealth redistribution. Now, please wait here, Isabelle. Just watch, for now?"

Isabelle gave him a hard stare and for a moment Daniel was concerned she would insist in taking part. They'd been making love less than half an hour ago; he couldn't throw her into an armed ambush after that.

"Alright," she said, finally. "For now."

"Thank you."

Turning his attention to the oncoming raid, Daniel instructed William to make his way behind the Earl and his retainers. Hoping that the others had assumed their positions, Daniel laid his bow on the ground alongside the road, and stepped out in front of the approaching party.

It took a few moments for them to notice him and Daniel took the time to size up his opponents. At the front, seated on two magnificent greys, was the Earl himself and what Daniel took to be his young son, a boy of about ten. Both were blond, dressed in dark red with swords on their belts – the Earl was clearly no fool when it came to riding through a forest known to be swarming with bandits and cutthroats.

A little distance behind rode two soldiers, more heavily armed and protected by chainmail, then Lady Matilda and her two attendants, followed by a wagon, guarded by more soldiers. Planning rapidly, Daniel estimated that his men - providing they had had enough time to reach their posts – should be able to encircle the group, herding them together so that the soldiers couldn't fight without risking harm to their employers.

Finally becoming aware of Daniel's presence, the Earl reined in his horse, raising a hand to alert his men.

For a moment, Daniel felt a peculiar sensation as he looked over the man before him; familiarity, yes, despite only having glimpsed him before. But it wasn't that. There was a mark on him, something that made him different and that made Daniel hesitate.

But he pushed this aside and hailed the Earl.

"Good morning to you, my lord."

"Good morning," the Earl replied, warily. Daniel noticed him signalling to his men to close in, protecting his wife and her ladies.

"Is there something I can do for you, friend?"

Daniel smiled, a cocky grin that indicated the shift in character that came upon him when he came to play this role, knowing that he must appear more confident than he felt if he was to gain any chance of success.

"Indeed there is, my lord. You can let me look in your wagon and then you can pay me a toll for your… safe passage through Sherwood."

The earl returned Daniel's gaze steadily.

"And if I choose not to?"

In reply, Daniel's camouflaged men stepped out from their hiding places, bows drawn. Another arrow came speeding from the trees to land square in the side of the wagon, causing the horses to start and the attendant ladies to gasp in alarm.

Lady Matilda, however, did not flinch, and Daniel saw her hand go to a sheathed dagger hidden on her bridle. Clearly, a woman who would fight to defend herself and her family.

"Rest assured, my lord. We intend no harm. But all who pass this way must pay a toll, and for one such as yourself… something in relation to your wealth would be appropriate."

"I do not bargain with thieves."

"We are not thieves, my lord. We seek merely to redress the balance of this country. Those who have much, will see it taken away, and those who have nothing, will be given it."

"Who says this?"

"I do. But I say this on the authority of Herne the Hunter himself, who chose me as his son."

"Herne?"

The Earl's astonishment at Daniel's words was clear.

"Yes, my lord. Have you had dealing with the Lord of the Trees yourself?"

Earl Robert of Huntingdon stared down at the scruffy young outlaw who confronted him, now only a few feet away.

"I will speak with you alone. In private."

He dismounted, his son moving to follow but the Earl stopped him.

"No, David. Wait here and look after your mother."

The boy glanced back at Lady Matilda, who nodded, and he remained on his horse.

The Earl drew Daniel away enough distance that they wouldn't be overheard, but not so far that his men wouldn't be able to reach them if needed. No fool indeed.

"You say you are Herne's Son? He spoke to you and told you this himself?"

"Of course." Daniel was surprised at the Earl's line of questioning. "Do you think I would go around claiming so otherwise?"

"I only ask you this," the Earl pressed. "Because I must know if… if there were others."

"Others?"

"After myself. After Herne called me and I chose a different path than his."

To say that this confession was out of the blue would be an understatement. Daniel found he couldn't think of a thing to say in reply other than:

"What?"

"When I was younger I – I heard the call. I came to the Forest, spoke with him, but I couldn't be his son. I couldn't leave the responsibilities of my family. I was my father's only son, his heir. I couldn't walk away from that."

"But you could walk away from Herne? From what he asked you to do?"

The Earl's face showed all too clearly the inner turmoil he had once, and apparently still did feel.

"I didn't believe that I could ever achieve what Herne wanted of me. But as the Earl of Huntingdon… I was raised to take on that role, trained, educated. My father made sure of that. I had a responsibility to the people living on my lands and I believed – I still believe – that I can make a real difference to their lives. Bring justice, fairness, improve the conditions my people live in."

"That I can understand," Daniel replied. "The land is crying out for men to make a stand against injustice."

"Do you hate me?" The Earl asked, unexpectedly. "I never felt the call from Herne again after I left. I often wondered if he had called another, if there was a reason he chose me or if he was waiting for someone particular."

The look that he gave Daniel was unsettling in its intensity. Clearly, this had preyed on the older man's mind for some time. Ignoring the first question, Daniel chose to answer the implied one instead.

"Herne called me because my father – my real father - was once his son. He died before I was born."

"Loxley?" The Earl asked sharply. "Was Loxley your father?"

Daniel nodded.

"Then he was waiting. If only-"

The Earl shook himself, as if trying to shake off nearly two decades of guilt and wondering.

"None of this matters now. If Herne's Son has once more come to the forest, then perhaps real change can begin. And if Herne chose you, then I am satisfied."

He held out his hand towards the younger man, seemingly relieved that the one who had taken on the role he himself had refused bore him no enmity, was a good man.

"My name is Robert. Robert of Huntingdon."

"Daniel."

"Then I wish you luck and success, Daniel of Sherwood."

As the older man turned to go, Daniel refused to relinquish his hold on the hand he had shaken.

"Aren't you forgetting something, my lord?"

Blond eyebrows raised.

"This is an ambush, my lord Earl. We cannot allow you to continue through Sherwood without a – contribution to its people."

The Earl gave Daniel a hard stare, their brief moment of comradeship vanishing as he was reminded of the presence of a number of armed archers threatening his family. He did not believe that this boy would harm them, but at the same time, was unwilling to risk his wife and son.

"Let them look in the wagon," he called to his men.

Daniel watched as the twins rifled through the contents of the Earl's luggage, emerging satisfied with two bundles apiece. Daniel was relieved that no-one was harassing the party of travellers; after the Earl's startling revelation, it would be embarrassing at the least to have to fight him.

Signalling to his men to withdraw, Daniel allowed Earl Robert to mount his horse once more.

"Good day, my lord. Godspeed."

"May Herne protect you," came the reply, as the Earl spurred his horse away, his retinue still close by.

Daniel watched them ride off, his men and his lover appearing from out of the trees to stand alongside him in the road.

"Oh, he will, my lord. There's no doubt about that."


	6. Chapter 6

**6.**

**Judith**

Daniel heard the branch snap before he saw movement and froze.

Caught away from the group, he would have to deal with this on his own.

He ducked down behind a clump of foliage, trying to reach his bow without being seen. Another branch broke, the sound travelling clear across the glade to where Daniel had concealed himself. Steadying his nerves, Daniel raised the bow, his arrow aimed directly for the heart, and took the shot.

The arrow flew straight, striking its target precisely, and the stag dropped, killed outright and Daniel felt a little thrill of pride. Although trained as a soldier, made to practise archery since childhood, hunting the King's deer had, naturally, been forbidden and it gave him immense satisfaction to be able to prove his skill in such a way. And a stag such as this one would feed the group for days, especially now Isabelle was living with them. Her numerous skills would ensure the meat went further, although he knew it angered her to be seen as the cook of the outlaw group. They had argued about it, Isabelle refusing to skivvy for a group of unwashed men who didn't appreciate her, but in the end there could only be one answer, at least until they made the effort to learn how to look after themselves.

The twins especially delighted in irritating her by talking of 'women's work', but no-one who'd ever come across Isabelle arm-deep in a freshly slaughtered beast, blood-smeared and armed with a skinning knife, would have referred to her then as the weaker sex. Not unless they wanted to end up like the poor creature.

Daniel stood, smiling as he lowered his bow, thinking of how he would make his lover proud when he brought the stag back to camp. Maybe he would even assist her with the butchery.

But as he crossed over the clearing to his kill, something sharp stung his neck and he stumbled, landing on one knee. He raised his hand to the spot and stared in astonishment at the dart he plucked out; a tiny sharpened twig, shorn of bark and coated in a sticky colourless fluid, now mingling with his own blood.

He tried to rise, but found his muscles wouldn't obey him and instead he pitched forward, his vision blurring and rolling. The stag, his prize, flickered and vanished, like a dream on wakening, and Daniel became aware of someone emerging from their hiding place behind a tree and standing over him, but the drug was too swift, and before he could make anything out, he drowned in the dark.

Awakening was sharp and painful, like a torrent of cold water hitting his face, bringing his senses back into focus, which he quickly wished they hadn't.

He was sitting bound at the base of a tree, his wrists raised above his head, his ankles tied to a wooden stake in front of him so that he could barely move. Around him were the trappings of a camp much like that of his group – a fire, blankets, waterskins - but as he looked around, trying to make sense of what was happening, he saw things that had no place in any sane person's dwelling.

A worn down tree stump, covered in a cloth, acted as a makeshift table, on which lay the blowpipe and dart that had allowed his capture. Alongside was a leather roll containing more knives than anyone needed, some small and wickedly sharp, curved and inscribed with lettering Daniel didn't recognise, others worrying large. A wooden chest lay open beside these, filled with glass phials such as those carried by the castle physician when Daniel had resided in Nottingham. But as far as Daniel remembered, the physician never had call to keep so much blood, and as to the rest of the contents, Daniel was happy to have his curiosity unsatisfied. Dangling from a branch above this altar were a number of silver charms strung on leather thongs. None of these were crosses, or even pilgrim tokens.

A shiver of fear ran through Daniel at the unnaturalness of his surroundings, combined with the realisation that he had, somehow, walked into a trap. But by who? And to what end? He couldn't imagine the Sheriff paying someone to drug him and drag him off to this sorcerer's bazaar, not when they could just kill him.

Closing his eyes, Daniel began to clear his mind to call to Herne. If anyone could make sense of this, it was his master, the forest god.

A stinging slap across his face brought him out of the near-trance he found himself in whenever communicating with Herne, and he opened his eyes to find a shadowy figure standing over him. He shook his head to clear his vision, and the figure transformed into that of a girl a little older than himself, in a red dress with black embroidery, long dark hair hanging down her back to her waist.

"Don't try calling for help."

Her voice, low, oddly accented, was calm rather than threatening.

"He won't be able to hear you. I made sure of that."

She indicated a symbol scored in black on the tree next to the one he was bound to and Daniel realised there were more symbols scattered around, even hidden within the embroidery on her dress.

"Who won't?"

The girl gave him a pitying look.

"Herne, of course. Who else would I mean?"

"What do you-"

She cut him off with another blow across the face.

"Quiet, boy. I don't need you for your voice."

Daniel acquiesced long enough for her to step back, then risked another question.

"What do you need me for, then? Why me?"

The smile that rose on his captor's face was not reassuring.

Turning to her altar on the tree stump, she picked up one of the slender, curved knives, running her fingertip along its edge.

"I need your blood, boy. And you, because, well, there's only one son of Herne the Hunter. Do you know how long I had to wait for you to come along?"

Daniel didn't reply, his mind spinning. How did she know who he was? And – his blood? What ungodly mess had he landed in?

"Perhaps you do. After all, there hasn't been a Chosen Son since Loxley. He was your father, wasn't he? And he's been dead longer than you've been alive."

"How do you know all this about me?" Daniel stuttered, too stunned to think of anything else to ask. But she ignored his question, instead straddling his bound legs to kneel over him, the knife at his throat.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you. Not unless you give me a reason to. I need you alive for the moment."

Fear and confusion turning to anger, Daniel began to struggle, uselessly, against the ropes that held him, earning him a vicious cuff alongside his head from her other hand.

"Keep still while I bleed you, little pig. Otherwise I might stick you deeper than I meant to. Or follow the example of my namesake and cut off your head."

Left with no other choice, Daniel was forced to do nothing while she made a small incision in his throat, catching the blood that spilled in one of her glass phials, then stemming the flow with a clump of grasses when it was filled.

Rising to her feet, the girl stowed her precious phial away with the others, licking away the drops of his blood that stained her white fingers in a way that made Daniel's stomach turn.

"Who are you?" He demanded. "What – what would anyone want with my blood?"

She smiled, and in any other circumstances, he would have thought her beautiful.

"My name is Judith, Daniel. And I need your blood because my master is a demanding one. Such an ingredient is rare and hard to find."

"You're a witch."

Daniel had heard the word thrown at people before, seen lives ruined by accusations, but never met anyone he thought truly might be one.

"If you like. I've been called many names in my life. Jew, to begin with. Whore. Filth. None of which I particularly cared for."

"A Jewess? So those stories they tell us about you drinking Christian blood are true?"

Another slap.

"Don't be ridiculous. Does this look like a Temple? I no longer bow down before a god that would allow my family, my kin to be massacred by a drunken mob because of their faith. I choose my own path, my own master."

"A Jew who's broken their faith and a witch? There's a lot to be proud of."

Daniel steeled himself to meet her gaze as he insulted her, but her face was calm, although her eyes were cold.

"Let them burn me twice, then."

"They don't burn Jews."

"No? Never been to York? They burned hundreds of my people there, and those who escaped the flames were butchered like animals. And it's happened many a time elsewhere."

"So you chose to worship the Devil instead?"

Judith laughed, a seemingly genuine laugh of amusement and for a moment, she seemed like any other girl.

"I never expected such closed-mindedness from you, Daniel. Doesn't your church teach you that worshipping forest gods is heresy? And call you a heathen for claiming you walk alongside a deity other than your Christ? I don't worship the Devil. There is always another choice."

"And what choice have you made?"

"The right one."

The cold tone was back, along with the look in her eyes that said he was right to be afraid of her. Daniel was no coward, would face anyone in battle, risk his life to save another, to defend the weak and helpless; that was what he had pledged his life to. But this girl… was something unnatural. He couldn't fight her; even if he were unbound, he didn't think he could defeat her with a sword.

"The only way to survive in this world, Daniel, is to have power. Rich men have power, but all it takes for them to lose it is for another man to have more money, more power. Or to fear them so much they kill them to evade their debts."

"And if you should come across another witch, with more power than you?"

"That, that is why I need your blood. The Son of Herne the Hunter is different from other men, and that runs in your veins. The spells I can make with this will make me far more powerful than any hovel-dwelling charm peddler. Will make me safe."

"Herne keeps me safe. Does your demon protect you?"

"I'm still alive, aren't I? And I don't see your forest god here, do you?"

Daniel tried to ignore her words, but they worried him. Could her charms and spells really keep Herne from him? Best not to think of that, concentrate on escaping the madwoman with the knife.

"But to worship a demon… What can he offer you?"

Judith smiled, and Daniel had to fight back a shudder.

"Let me show you."

She reached into the wooden chest and drew out a screw of parchment, flinging its contents into his face before he could see what it was. The bitter powder stung his eyes and throat, making him retch and cough and then the world turned over.

_It wasn't like when Herne sent him a vision – those were often confusing but they felt real, no matter how unnatural. This was like one of those dreams where nothing was right, felt as if he were teetering on the brink of a precipice, waiting for something to push him over the edge._

_Mist swirled around his feet, rising up to engulf him, and when it cleared, his father was standing waiting for him. _

_Even though the man had been killed months before Daniel had been born, he knew it was his father from the visions Herne had granted him. People said he looked like his father, the mythical Robin of Loxley, Robin i'the hood, the Hooded Man, and maybe he did. They had the same shoulder length brown hair, the same dark eyes, but more than that, Daniel could see the stamp of ownership standing out on him that called him Herne's Son, as he had on Earl Robert of Huntingdon, faded but still lingering. _

"_Daniel."_

"_Yes?"_

"_My son."_

_The man raised his hand to touch Daniel's shoulder, as if unsure who was real, then suddenly clasped him in a fierce embrace._

_A flood of emotions washed over Daniel as he allowed himself to believe that this was his father, here, now, with him, telling him he was proud of him._

"_I loved your mother so much. I would have died for her from the moment we first met, and I don't regret dying to keep her alive, not for a second. And if I'd known she was carrying you… our son."_

"_I'm Herne's Son too," Daniel said, wanting to please this man he had never known but always dreamed of knowing,, to prove he was worthy of this pride._

"_I heard the call, took up the mantle."_

"_I know. I've been gone a long time, but in some ways I never left. He kept me close, waiting for this moment when we could meet. You feel it too, don't you? The path of what must be done stands out so clearly."_

"_I do. Sometimes I'm not sure which way to go, but I can see what's right. What it is that Herne wants me to achieve. And even if my men can't see it… I can lead them, Father. I know I can."_

"_I know."_

_Loxley grasped his shoulder again, a gesture of passing on the responsibility in the same way Daniel had felt when he first picked up Albion._

"_I killed Gisburne."_

_Why did that feel like a confession? Shouldn't he be proud to tell his father that, that he had taken revenge on the man who had killed Loxley's wife, Daniel's mother? But the trace of guilt that remained at turning on his former master, no matter how repulsive a man he had been, itched in his mind. _

"_You did the right thing, my son. Loyalty must be earned, not expected. Never forced. A lesson to remember as a leader." _

_Daniel nodded. _

"_There are so many things I could say to you. But you must find your path for yourself, not try to follow mine. You are my son, but England needs you to be your own man."_

"_I will be, Father. I… I used to wish that I had known you, that you could have raised me. But I think perhaps the way I grew up, living among the enemy, showed me what I needed to do just as well." _

"_And you will do it, I know you will. Wait here, my son. There is another coming."_

_Loxley stepped back, fading into the fog that sprang up again before Daniel could speak, but he barely had time to take this in before another hand touched his shoulder from behind. A gentler hand, pale and ladylike._

_Daniel turned and there stood his mother. It was strange to see her so young and lovely, and know that she'd been gone for seventeen years. What would she have been like, had she lived?_

"_Daniel. So grown up. My little boy."_

_She opened her arms and he stepped into her embrace, holding close the second parent he hadn't ever had the chance to know. He was taller than her, and found himself a little embarrassed to tower over his own mother. And, well, she was a lady. A real Lady, daughter of a Crusading knight. Despite laying a claim to Leaford Grange, Daniel had always tried to deny that he was in part nobility, finding more comradeship with the common folk, but that now seemed like an insult to her memory._

_Marion stroked the hair back from his face in a gesture it seemed he remembered from infancy, but that was impossible. She had died when he was but a few days old. Any memory of a mother would have been Nurse Joan, or another of the castle women. But nonetheless, it seemed that he did remember her, and not just from the visions Herne had granted him. _

"_How I missed you. I missed all of your growing up. I never wanted to leave you, my son."_

"_I missed you too, Mother." _

"_You will be careful, won't you? I understand what you have to do, I felt the same way once, but… it isn't just you anymore. I know what it feels like when someone you love is torn away. My heart was broken when your father died, and while you went some way to mending it… a broken heart never truly heals."_

_The thought hadn't truly occurred to Daniel. Isabelle had chosen to leave her old life and fight by his side, as had his men, but his mother was right. Should he be killed, it wasn't just that the battle would require a new leader, but that she would be left alone, with nothing to go back to. She had given everything up for love, and would need protection, no matter how much she would deny it. Her independence was part of what made him love her, but he must think of the future as well as the present. _

"_I saw him, Mother. I saw Father."_

"_I know. I waited for him, as I tried to watch over you. I'll see him soon. You make me so proud, my son."_

"_I try. If it takes everything I have, I will try."_

"_Herne protect you, Daniel. I love you."_

_Then the cloud swirled up again, and she was gone. Perhaps had never been. Were they both just dreams, like the stag that had led him into this trap, or somehow real? Had the spirits of his parents lingered, hoping to one day see him, and each other again? He hoped that they were together somewhere, that they were free. But the haze that circled around him made his head spin and for a moment he couldn't tell where he was - _

But as the mist faded away and the forest swam back into focus, Daniel made out the form of Judith packing away more phials, recently filled, it seemed, with his blood. Clearly she had not been idle while he was dreamwalking.

"And what was that supposed to prove?" Daniel managed, his voice hoarse from the drug.

"Your master sends you visions, doesn't he?" Judith replied, her eyes glittering wildly. "I know he does. As does mine. The things he shows me. And I can choose my dreams too. No longer do I wake up screaming at ghosts from my past."

No doubt Judith could have talked at length about what her demon master could do, but she was cut off brutally by the arrow that sped out from the trees to bury itself in her shoulder, knocking her off her feet.

Still confused, unsure if what he was seeing was real or not, Daniel watched as Isabelle came out of hiding, another arrow already in her bow, aimed at the fallen Judith.

"Stay where you are," she told the witch, her voice soft but her intent clear.

If Daniel had thought about it, he would have expected Isabelle to be blazing with anger, to throw insults and threats but instead she was completely calm, and that made her seem more dangerous. Not for the first time, Daniel realised he had underestimated his lover.

"Now I didn't kill you – I could have, but I didn't. I want you to remember that," Isabelle continued. "So you're going to do what I tell you, aren't you?"

Judith, clutching her shoulder, her face pale, nodded.

"Cut him free. And know that if you so much as graze him, the next arrow goes through your throat."

Picking up her discarded knife, Judith crawled over to Daniel, slashing through the ropes that held his wrists. She drove the point of the knife into the earth in a gesture of frustration, getting to her feet and backing off a little, unsteady on her feet from the arrow wound.

Daniel picked up the knife, wiped clean now but just knowing what it has been used for was enough to make him uncomfortable, and freed his ankles. The blood sang in his veins as it rushed back in and he felt lightheaded as he rose. How much of his blood had she taken?

"Now I'm making you a trade here," Isabelle was saying. "Your life for his. I'm going to let you go, and I'll even let you keep all your… accoutrements." Here she cast an eye over Judith's assorted equipment with a note of distaste in her voice.

"But if I so much as see your face again, I will kill you. Do you understand?"

Judith nodded, keeping her eyes on Isabelle's face, making no effort to fight back, to cast a spell or a trick. Perhaps if Isabelle had come in on the attack, all rage and violence, she would have done, but the calm behind Isabelle's words made her realise that she meant them, and Judith believed her. Whereas Daniel had been someone to trap and lord it over, Isabelle was an adversary. Her hands were as steady on the bow as her eyes were on the witch before her, the woman who had tried to take Isabelle's man away from her, so she had come to rescue him, not just to get him back, but to regain her own power.

Maybe it was the arrow wound, but to Daniel, Judith seemed smaller, more vulnerable. Despite a good five years on Isabelle, she was skinnier than the other girl's womanly curves, her embroidered dress hanging from her and with one of the flashes of insight he had begun to become used to since becoming Herne's Son, Daniel suddenly saw Judith as the girl she had once been, before too much suffering and pain had twisted her into the shape she now held.

Saw her sitting in the forest, maybe twelve or thirteen years old, crying as if her heart was breaking. A man approaching her, his face always in shadow, sitting beside her, offering her the chance to make her own life, a opportunity for power and safety, if only she would give herself to him. Daniel, not unaware of the parallels between this scene and his first meeting with Herne, wondered what Judith would have become had she chosen a different path. Perhaps once, he could have saved her, but it was too late now; she had made her choice, and in doing so made an enemy of him and, more importantly, of Isabelle. She would not forgive the transgression, even though the offence was against her man, not herself.

"Are you alright?" Isabelle asked him finally, not taking her eyes away from Judith.

"Yes, thank you."

Casting his gaze around, Daniel spied Albion lying on the ground beside him, with his bow and quiver. Had Judith not recognised its power, or had she been afraid of it? She had mocked Herne's power, denied it, yet she had cast spells to keep the forest god away, to hide Daniel from his master.

"Come on then."

Isabelle began to back away from the witch's camp.

"Remember what I said," she called.

Judith made no reply, just stood, holding onto her wound and watched them go.

"How do you know the arrow won't kill her?" Daniel asked, when they were safely out of range.

"If she has any skill as a witch," Isabelle replied shortly. "It won't."

"So why didn't you kill her when you had the chance?"

Isabelle gave him an odd look.

"You really don't know, do you?"

Daniel gave up.

"Thank you. For coming after me."

"Of course. You did the same for me."

Isabelle kept her eyes on the road ahead, purposefully avoiding her lover's gaze and Daniel knew what she was referring to. A few days after Isabelle had left the Grange and come to the forest, she'd gone on an errand and not come back.

Only Thomas on sentry duty, hearing her screams and raising the alarm, had allowed them to get to her in time. A group of foresters, king's men on horseback, had run her into a corner and Daniel overheard them plan to "rape the outlaw bitch, then strangle her and dump her body in a river."

They had gotten no further in that plan before Daniel and his men took them down, denying them even so much as a Christian burial afterwards.

Isabelle wouldn't speak of it afterwards, but Daniel knew she had bad dreams, and was more careful about leaving the camp alone, and never unarmed. Not all of her screams had been in terror, but without so much as a weapon, no matter how furious she was, how could one girl defend herself against four armed men? The incident had made Daniel more determined to protect her, and they had argued about it frequently. While Isabelle could no longer say she didn't need his protection, she was just as determined to prove herself an equal to any man in the group. And now she had rescued him, repaid the debt only she felt existed. If it had been one of the others, they would have killed Judith outright, without so much as a word, as they had the foresters. But Isabelle had felt differently, and let the other girl live.

For all his insights, Daniel knew he would never understand women.

"How did you know where to find me? And that I needed help at all?"

"Herne."

Daniel didn't know what to make of that. If his master had known that Daniel was in trouble, why hadn't he warned him? Had Judith's spells really worked?

"He called me. Told me that someone was trying to break the bond between you and that I had to stop them. I knew you were out hunting so I tracked you. "

Clearly Isabelle had taken her lessons with William, a former gamekeeper who'd been living in Sherwood most of his life, seriously.

"Did he tell you not to kill her?"

"No. He told me nothing about who it was."

Daniel remembered the first time he'd introduced Isabelle to Herne, bringing her with him when his master called for him. The Lord of the Trees had made her wait outside the cave while he spoke to Daniel, but he asked to see her alone after. Daniel had no idea what he had said to Isabelle, but she'd emerged pale and shaking, clearly deeply shocked by her encounter with the forest god. He remembered holding onto her while she wept in his arms for some time afterwards, only for her to get up, dry her eyes, and refuse to say anything about it again.

Maybe Daniel's choice of lover had been more important to Herne than he'd thought it would be. Clearly, Herne thought that he had chosen well, if he'd sent her to rescue him over any of his men. Some of his followers seemed uncomfortable with Daniel claiming a relationship with a forest deity, even doubting that it was for real, and Herne had not shown himself to them.

There was, it appeared, more going on around Isabelle than should be expected for a peasant girl, the daughter of a house maid and a soldier killed fighting in France, who'd grown up wholly unremarkable in every way. Until, that is, she'd met Daniel. Isabelle had proven herself over and over, in ways that no-one had ever asked or expected her to, but she seemed to feel that she must. Perhaps because she was the only woman in the group, perhaps because she had never expected her life to take another path than the one that had lain in front of her since childhood, whereas the others had begun to choose their own destinies, in one form or another, from a young age. Whatever it was, Daniel knew he was glad, more than glad, to have her at his side, and not just as a lover.

Daniel reached out and took Isabelle's hand as together, they walked back to camp.

Even if the visions Judith had shown him were tricks rather than truth, they had come from somewhere inside himself, some desire to know his parents, and he felt sure that, if they were the people he thought they were, then they would be proud. And not just of him; his lover and his men were all worthy of their pride, and he would do everything he could to lead them, whatever the outcome. Herne would guide him, and Daniel would lead them, and together… well, time would tell.


End file.
